Meeting Henry
by Scarlett Hyde
Summary: A prequel of sorts to my story The Alternate. It tells the story of how Scarlett meet and more or less saved the redcoat Captain Henry Stevenson's life. (Rated T for Scarlett's swearing and often crude humor)
1. Chapter 1

I walked through the woods, humming a soft tune. It was quiet days like this I enjoyed, away from the wartime stress. I had even left my signature cloak at home, and put on short pants, boots, and a loose black tunic. My tail and ears weren't visible; I looked pure human apart from the sharp teal eyes.

Suddenly, I heard a small groan from some ferns near the path. I jerked my head towards the sound, hand reaching for the knife at my belt. A low warning growl rumbled in my throat. "Who's there? I'm warning you, I'm armed."

I received a small whimper in reply. "P-Please… help."

I pulled aside some bushes to see the wounded man lying there. Had it not been for the redcoat, I'd have already approached. "Don't try anything funny, Redcoat bastard," I warned, holding my knife in his line of sight. As I drew closer I could make out his facial features. A short dark brown beard lined his jaw and he more of the dark brown hair on his head. His eyes were a fern green, and they were _scared_.

He gasped, trying to drag himself away as he saw the knife. "No! P-Please! I mean no harm," he pleaded, then winced, curling around his belly. "Please! T-The pain! It-it burns!"

I saw his gun lying on the ground a few feet from him. I quickly grabbed it and threw it a good 10 yards. It landed some ways away in a clump of thick ferns. If someone passed by they wouldn't see it. Turning back to the wounded man I said, "I'll take you back to my cabin, but if you try anything..." I let the threat hang in the air.

His eyes widened fearfully as he swallowed nervously. "I won't, I swear!" he promised, voice frantic.

I simply snorted. "I hope not... for your sake." I let the unsaid threat hang in the air again before I slipped his arm over my shoulders and helped him back down the trail to the cabin. I noticed his hand was covered in his own blood, and it was a slightly alarming amount. " _Dónde está la herida_?" I asked, before I realized I was speaking (probably incorrect) Spanish. Damn these Earth languages. "Damn it, that's not English. Where is your wound?" I corrected myself, slightly annoyed with myself.

He gave a small laugh before wincing and pointing to his belly.

My eyes widened. He was shot in the belly?! How was he still alive? I walked at a faster pace. "Belly wound?! Damn... I gotta act quickly," I whispered, worried now. I was no fan of the British, but I had a soft spot for wounded or scared men; this man counted for both.

He swallowed heavily again, wincing. "I d-don't want to die," he whimpered softly, sagging against me.

I staggered slightly with the new weight. Was he helping at _all_? "Shut up, you're not going to die," I growled, adding a silent 'I hope'. Then again, being a Patriot, I should be letting him die. "Just keep breathing and don't pass out on me. You're heavy enough as bloody is," I muttered as the cabin came in sight. _Praise the Sun!_

I felt the man beginning to shaking a little. "Thank you for doing this," he said softly, a slight pant in his words now. He was losing blood fast.

I grunted in response to the thanks. "Yeah, count yourself lucky. Normally I don't save you bloody backs," I growled at him. Lie, for if they were hurt and begged for help I would always help them.

A cry of pain passed his lips and he winced in pain.

"Ok ok. Hang in there... who exactly are you? What's your rank?" I asked as we walked onto the cabin's front porch.

"I-I'm a captain," he said between pants and gritted teeth.

 _Oh goody. An officer. Should have guessed from the coat design._ "Alright. Don't expect me throwing any sirs your way," I said as I drug him through the door and to one of the spare rooms I used for medical procedures. There was a small cot which I could use rope and large straps with if I needed to restrain a wriggler.

He shook his head. "D-Don't bother. I never did not like being called sir anyways. M-Makes me feel old," he said, a slightly playful tone in his voice despite the tremor.

 _At least he's trying to stay positive,_ I though offhandedly. "Right then," I said, lying him down gently on the bed. "Now, what's your name, mate?" I asked as I lifted his legs onto the bed as gently as I could.

"M-my name is Henry Stevenson," he stuttered, giving a pained gasp. His face was starting to turn pale; I needed to tend to his wound and quick.

"Henry, huh? I knew another Henry once," I said, then growled as I remembered him. I would kill that son of a bitch the very next second I saw him after what he had done to me. "Part of the reason I don't care for your lot." Then again, Henry was such a common name it was ridiculous. No need to get angry with this Henry for another man's action.

Henry gulped. "W-What did he do?"

"Our meeting wasn't overly pleasant for me... still got the scar," I snarled, eyes going hard.

Henry blinked, uncertainty and fear in his eyes as my temper noticeably went left. "W-Well," he began, voice trembling. "I can assure you I am not like him and m-may I know your name?"

"That remains to be seen, Henry, and no, you mayn't," I said, grabbing a pair of tweezers and some bandages. If I told him my name, and he left, he'd lead the other men back here. I couldn't have that. I saw the fear in his eyes as I reached for the tweezers. I sighed. This was going to make him squirm for sure. I set the needle down and reached across the table. Grabbing a syringe filled with lime green liquid, I brought it up and flicked it with my forefinger. Then I looked back down at him.

Fear flooded his eyes as they darted from it to me. "What... What the hell is that?" he whimpered, trying to scoot away from me.

"Easy man, easy," I said, resting a hand on his arm to slightly calm him as I expelled the air from the syringe.

He shook his head, eyeing the green liquid filled container with fear. "N-Not until you tell me what is i-in there," he said, voice shaking.

"So... you want to know what is, eh?" I said softly, eyes narrowing.

He gulped as my eyes narrowed, probably thinking he angered me. "I-I mean… y-you _are_ about t-to stick that into me. I just thought you could t-tell me," he stammered, shooting a nervous glance at the syringe. "Please?"

"No," I said, then twisted his arm, exposed the vein on the crook of his elbow, and stuck him with the needle.

It was so fast and he barely had any time to react before the anesthetic was in his bloodstream. The effect was immediate and his eyes grew tired. They were still fearful and panicked, however. "W-What did you do?!" he rasped, trying to struggle but not being able to due to the numbing drug.

I rested my hand on his shoulder and pushed him down. "Don't fight it, Henry. It's only gonna put you to sleep while I fix the wound. Let it pull you under. It's ok," I said gently, holding his gaze.

He blinked, uncertain, but he must have seen some truth in my eyes for his eyes closed and his breathing fell into a steady, slow rhythm.

"Atta boy," I whisper, before setting to work on his wound. _Hopefully it's not too late._

* * *

 _**So I tried to think of a clever title to play on the name Henry which stems from**_ **Heimirich** _ **which meant "home ruler", composed of the elements heim "home" and ric "power, ruler" but nothing came up. So yay for unoriginal title.**_

As always, let me know if you'd like to see more of this!

 _ **I have many stories I'm working on and I shift ones people like to the top of the work list so that is why I always ask if people want to read it.**_


	2. Chapter 2

~NEXT MORNING~

I sat in a wooden chair by the bedside, half asleep. I had managed to remove the bullet and keep him alive as well. It had taken removing his coat and undershirt, but I had bandaged the wound after sterilizing it to prevent further blood loss and infection. Now it was just a matter of waiting for him to wake up. I glanced over at him.

He had whimpered and twitched even while unconscious, no doubt feeling each pull of the needle as I stitched his wound. A groan brought me back to the present. But he had begun to move again, though not like a conscious person. He was twitching at the hands and feet, and a small, nearly inaudible whimper came from him. The grimace of pain soon turned to fear, quickly letting me know he was having a nightmare.

Standing up I made my way over and stood by the bed, ready to wake him if it became too violent for him.

Another whimper, louder this time, broke the silence as his twitching became more profound. "N-No," he murmured, gradually thrashing harder and harder.

 _Ok, time to step in,_ I thought, and lunged forward to grab him by both arms.

He immediately tried to fight me in his sleep. The action probably transferred to the dream realm and manifested in the form of a demon attacking him. "No! Get off! Let me go! Please!" he screamed.

Whatever was attacking him must have been pretty scary. I didn't want him to tear the stitches and get it bleeding again. Using my foot, I quickly dragged over some rope and with a quick jerk of my foot into the air I tossed it up and grabbed it in midair. Acting fast, I managed to get his arms secured by his sides and he tied down.

"Help! Let me go!" he wailed, still thrashing around. But the ropes held strong. "Please! Help! Help! Mercy!" His nightmare was reaching a peak, tears starting to flow from his eyes. "Oh God, I'll do anything! Anything! Spare me please! _Please_! No! NO!"

Grabbing a glass of water, I threw it into his face. As expected, his eyes shot open and he gasped at the sudden cold.

"Ah! W-What-"

"You were having a nightmare. I didn't want you to reopen the wound so I had to tie you down." I paused, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What was the nightmare about?" I asked as I began to untie him.

Eyes wide and haunted, he rasped, "It… it was the r-rebels. They were h-hunting me. They had caught me… they were going to kill me." He paused, shaking terribly as I slipped the ropes off him. "I d-didn't even do anything wrong. I was only t-trying to find my squad. I g-got lost, it was dark…" He stumbled off, eyes haunted. "T-They were laughing at me. Taunting me, h-hitting me… then o-one… h-he took his knife and… " Henry could not continue, body wracked with tremors. He grabbed my wrist in an iron grip. "P-Please, I beg you. D-Don't let the rebels find m-me," he pleaded, green eyes glistening with tears. "Please."

"Henry…" I said softly, placing my hand over the one gripping my wrist. "You do realize I am a rebel, aye?"

If there was a face that portrayed terror in its strongest state, it would be Henry's. I thought the man would either piss himself or pass right back out. He quickly jerked his hand back and tucked it protectively to his chest. "W-What?!" he yelped, shrinking down and scooting as far from me as he possibly could.

"What's wrong, mate? Scared I'll gut you?" I asked dryly, a groan in the back of my throat as he gave the typical reaction of a soldier being caught with his pants figuratively down by an enemy while said solider was too badly wounded to fight.

I only received a nod in return, Henry too scared to speak. He looked like a cowering dog who expected to be hit at any moment and it honestly made my stomach twist at how terror stricken he looked.

I said in a gentler tone, "Henry. I didn't spend two hours fixing your wound to simply kill you once you woke up."

"B-B-But if you're a r-rebel… that means you'll t-turn me over to them," he said.

"No, I actually don't intend to do so, as long as you behave and don't cause trouble," I responded, making no move to drag him closer. I had worked with men like him before, and the key to keeping them calm and docile was to not appear threatening. If you were threatening, they would fear you. If they feared you, they would try to escape to where they felt safe. Their regiment or a fort. If they didn't fear you or at least trusted you not to kill or hurt them if they just did what you told them to, they were less likely to try and escape. In Henry's case, running was a very poor idea.

"But won't they brand you a traitor and try to hang you if they knew you helped heal me?" Henry asked, the fear gradually disappearing from his eyes and face.

I gave a small snort. "They wouldn't dare," I muttered, then cleared my throat and continued, "Don't worry. You are safe here."

He blinked a few times, uncertainty clear in his expression. Then he said, "T-Thank you, miss…" He looked at me, realizing he didn't know my name.

"Just call me Ice for now," I told him, walking over to the chest on the opposite side of the room to grab him a towel and clothes to change into. "And do kindly drop the miss. Just Ice. Miss in my opinion is a wee bit condescending."

"Er, alright. But…Ice? How did you come by that name? If you don't mind me asking, of course," Henry added quickly.

I turned, clothes and towel in hand, to see him propped up on his elbows. I huffed. "Well, lookie what I caught. A polite bloody back. That's new. As for my nickname, have you looked at my eyes?" I asked. I handed the towel to him.

Henry looked up and met my gaze. He held it as he took the towel before breaking his gaze off. "Oh… I see now." He slowly brought the towel up, mindful of the stitches, and wiped off his face. After doing so he looked back up at me. "Wait… what do you mean by a polite soldier being a rare occurrence? Aren't all of the King's men gentlemen?" he asked.

I laughed harshly before I realized he was honestly confused, brows furrowed and lips turned down in a small frown. "You're… you're serious! Damn. Well, I'd shake some sense into you the old fashioned way, but I don't want to waste two plus hours of work," I said.

Henry grimaced in pain as he slowly moved his legs around and planted his feet on the wooden floor. "I don't follow. What happened to give you such a negative outlook on my men?"

I sighed. "Just, quite a few less than favorable run-ins, one even tried to sexually force himself upon me. But I'm sure it wasn't any of your men. You seem like a good guy," I explained.

Henry's frown deepened. "All soldiers should behave like gentlemen," he protested, "They are disgracing the Crown and their country if they do not."

I rolled my eyes. So, he was going to be the oyster shell type. Rooted in the mud and unwilling to be open. "Women are supposed to be dainty, submissive housewives who wear dresses, never cuss, and should never be alone with any male who is not her spouse or father. Yet here I am, ready to kick some ass and dealing with your shit, alone. So you see, things are often not what they should be. But enough of that." I slipped his arm around my shoulders and helped him stand. "Let's go into the living space. I'll make some cider, and we can discuss our views."

The captain groaned when I lifted him up, but proceeded to try and joke. "Hey, why not tea?" He knew damn well about how rebels felt about that.

I huffed a mockingly angry breath through my teeth. "Don't press your luck!"


End file.
